


Shark-Crossed Love

by toodlepip



Series: Infinite Woosters on Infinite Earths [8]
Category: Jeeves & Wooster, Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse
Genre: Cephalopod AU, Gen, Octopus's Garden, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 06:11:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15723594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toodlepip/pseuds/toodlepip
Summary: Jeeves and Wooster are called upon by their pal, Augustus Fink-Cuttle, to help him find a way to best Cuttleick Spodefish and win Madeleine Sea-Bassett's heart.





	1. Chapter 1

I was relaxing in my rocky bath, as warm and comfortable as a clam buried in the sand, when Jeeves shimmered into visibility. I confess that I considered ignoring him. I had been singing a sea shanty with considerable gusto, whilst conducting my performance by waving around shrimp held in three of my arms. I was on the third verse, and had built up quite a head of steam. So I continued.

At the start of the fourth verse, he clacked his beak gently, as if to say 'ahem, Sir.' I gurgled into silence. 

'What is it, Jeeves?' I waved him forward with an unoccupied limb. 

'A visitor has arrived, sir.' 

'What? It's barely past low tide, Jeeves.'

'The gentleman indicated that it was urgent.' 

'Come now,' I said, 'a chap'd be mad to be out on the town so early, unless perhaps it was more a question of being out late. Does this chap of yours look tired, would you say, or well-rested?' I crunched up one of the shrimp. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, and all that. 

'Mr Fink-Cuttle, sir? It's rather hard to judge.' 

Augustus Fink-Cuttle? Oh, lor'. I knew precisely what Jeeves meant. 'Show him in, will you?' 

Jeeves looked as uncomfortable as an octopus can. 'I… will do my best, sir.' 

A beak clattered, alarmingly close. 

I jumped. All eight of my arms shot into the air and I lost my balance, flopping down onto the sand. 'I've told you before, young Fink-Cuttle, not to ruddy well sneak up on me like that!' 

'Oh, Bertie,' said Gussie, 'you know I can't help it. Besides, you didn't mind back at school, did you?' 

It was true. Gussie and I had undisputedly depended on his camouflage as larvae. Boarding schools are dangerous places for young cephalopods. His ability to sneak into the headmaster's office undetected and half-hitch a handful of squished-worm biscuits had more than once been the difference between contentment and starvation. 

The thing about Gussie, though, was that he became so used to living in the shadows that he simply forgot how to turn it off. I hadn't seen him in, gosh, a long time, and today wasn't going to be any different. 

'Oh, ah,' I said, somewhat awkwardly. 'Have a shrimp.' 

'Thank you,' he said from somewhere up close. A tentacle whistled up from nowhere and one of my two remaining shrimp disappeared from view. I crunched up the last one while he attacked his. Waste not, want not. 

When we'd eaten, I said, 'So what can I do for you? I mean to say, always good to share a crustacean with an old school friend.' 

'Well,' he said, and I don't mind telling you that I didn't like the way he said it, 'the fact is, I have something of a conundrum.' 

'Go on,' I said. 

There was a pause. 

'Oh!' I clacked my beak. 'Would you prefer Jeeves to leave?' 

'Not at all,' said my old pal. 'I was rather hoping to speak to him about it -' 

I sploshed a little water around in irritation. 'My dear fellow, he's right here. Go on, tell old Bertram what's wrong. Jeeves can chime in when he likes.' 

Fink-Cuttle gave a little whirl of his arms, or so I surmised from the wave of sand that rose into the air. 'Well, all right, Bertie, but it's jolly embarrassing.' 

I went a strange shade of orange. 'I say, this isn't about – girls, is it?' 

His silence said it all. 

'Gussie,' I said, 'I have but one piece of advice when it comes to the ladies; sneak into her boudoir, get that mating arm into her siphon before she notices you're there and don't outstay your welcome.' 

'I knew you wouldn't understand,' he said. 'Your kind never do. Brute! Why, I could no more grapple Madeleine into submission than you could pass an biology degree...' 

I sighed. 

Jeeves's beak clattered. 'Might I, sir?' 

I waved assent. 

'Mr Fink-Cuttle is a cuttlefish, sir,' Jeeves explained. 

'I had noticed.' 

'His wooing of Miss Sea-Bassett is therefore to be completed in two distinct stages.The, ah, intimate stage to which you refer is indeed relevant, although I am bound to say that Mr Fink-Cuttle is rather fortunate in that regard, as the female of the cuttlefish species is rather less prone to killing and eating her gentleman callers.' 

'Indeed?' I had not realised this. 'Goodness; the female of the cuttlefish species is less deadly than the male, is she?' 

Jeeves gave a so-so wave. 

'I say,' I said. 'I wonder if I was born into the wrong species. I must say it sounds like a much more relaxing way of life than our own. I can barely meet a female without cringing, Jeeves; knowing that the _belle dame sans merci_ is eyeing me up as a morning-after snack has always rather put a crimp in things, socially.'

'Ah, yes, sir, but I suspect what agitates Mr Fink-Cuttle is rather the fact that before gaining access to the lady's favour, he must find and defend an adequate home into which they can move for the duration of their union, sir.' 

'A stately home, eh, what?' 

The miserable patch of water in which Gussie lay shivered again. 'That's right,' he said. 'And I shall fail, Bertie, I really shall. You see, there's only one place which Madeleine Sea-Bassett would ever accept as the stage of her betrothal.' 

'Totleigh Towers,' said Jeeves, thoughtfully. 

'What?' said I, accidentally leaking a little ink, for I had been to that place more often than I should wish, barely escaping with my life and sanity intact. 

'It's a sentimental thing,' Gussie explained. 'Miss Sea-Bassett says that the gardens make her think of the coral of her ancestors. What a wonderful creature she is, Bertie!' 

I allowed that, all things said, she was in a class of her own on the slinky-tentacles front. The truth was that though I had no wish to exaggerate the gulf between our species, Miss Sea-Bassett, although divine of course, was not really my sort of cephalopod. Indeed, though I had met her on a number of occasions and greatly admired her from a distance, the sheer soppiness of her mien was something that came back to me in nightmares, especially when I had eaten an unpleasantly rich shellfish dinner. 

'But you see, Bertie, I am not her only suitor. She loves me – of that I am sure – but that blasted scuttler Cuttleick Spodefish has stolen her attention of late. And when it comes to defending her honour against him – oh, Bertie. I simply can't.' 

I saw his point. Cuttleick Spodefish is a big fish in a small pond, a creature with an unhealthy orange-red tinge to his camouflage, which I have always attributed to a combination of diet and constant anger. He commands a small army of angry cephalopods, all of whom are as flushed and as angry as Spodefish himself. I don't know one cuttlefish in a hundred who would stand against him. He's a big lad and vicious with it. 

'Golly,' I said. 'Jeeves, would you fetch a few more shrimp? Let's sit down and think about this.' 

 

We sat and crunched shrimp in silence for a few minutes. At length, Jeeves made a discreet little clicking noise, which was his way of saying that he had thought of something. 

'I believe I might have it, sir. At least, I have the bones of an idea.' 

'What is it?' I said. 

'You are quite right. He cannot beat Spodefish by force. However, Mr Fink-Cuttle has always been extraordinarily gifted in the use of camouflage.' 

There was no arguing that. 

'It is therefore my suggestion that he exercises the better part of valour, sir.' 

'Oh, I say,' I said. 'You mean, simply sneak past Spodefish without doing battle, lock himself into the Sea-Bassett boudoir and present the family with a _fait accompli_?' 

'Yes, sir.' 

I gazed at the patch of empty water that was Fink-Cuttle's approximate position, where a discarded pile of debris indicated that he, too, had been helping himself to the shrimp canapes. 'I suppose it has a good chance of working,' I allowed. 'But is it _preux_ , do you think? Is it within the Code of the Woosters to countenance such sneakery?' 

Gussie spluttered. 'Blast it all, Bertie, you just suggested the same thing yourself, didn't you? In fact, you bally well suggested that I throw myself upon the poor fish without even asking for her opinion on the issue, so I hardly think you have the moral high ground here, _preux_ or not.' 

I blushed to my last chromatophore. 'I suppose I did. I'm sorry, Gussie; it's an octopus thing. Very well, then; if Gussie is willing, then I, Bertram Octopoid Wooster, will do everything in my power to support this scheme.' 

And so it was settled, and plans were made over a lunch of invertebrate salad; and that very afternoon, we began our journey to Totleigh Towers.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bertie encounters Sir Watkyn Sea-Bassett

The plan went wrong almost at once, when, rounding the coral shrubbery, I found Sir Watkyn Sea-Bassett walking pensively in the garden. 'Mr Wooster,' he said, austerely, 'this is a surprise.' 

'I, ah,' I said, wisely. 'I was looking for Cuttleick Spodefish, as a matter of fact.' 

'Were you, indeed?' He narrowed his eyes. 'Mr Wooster, I do hope we are to have no repetition of your prior unfortunate advances towards my daughter. I don't wish to approach a thorny subject, but the species divide -' 

'Oh, quite, quite,' I said, hastily. 'I assure you I feel nothing but the warmest esteem for Miss Sea-Bassett, and for your fine species as a whole, indeed -' 

'Then your interest is?' 

'Purely based in my artistic endeavors,' I said. 'As you know, I have occasionally contributed articles to my aunt's publication' – having sold her an article once entitled 'What the well-disguised squid is signalling', this was indeed true – 'and I had hoped that Mr Spodefish might agree to be interviewed for a follow-up piece?' 

'I see. I fear, however, that you have chosen a most inopportune time. It is not your fault, of course- one makes full allowance for your species – but I'm afraid that you have visited us right in the middle of what I can only under the circumstances describe as, I blush to say it -' and indeed he did blush grey to the tips of his arms '- ah, the mating season.' 

'Golly,' I said. 'Perhaps we might limit it to a short interview, then?' 

He blew reflectively, eddies disturbing the greenish weed embedded in the rock. 'Mr Wooster, one does not seek to be inhospitable.' 

'Absolutely.' 

'But really, I do feel that you might be better encouraged to redirect your efforts elsewhere.' 

'Ah.' 

He drummed his whiskery arms onto the rock. 'And I do think, hmm-hmm--' he paused. 

I squirmed uncomfortably. 

'No, it is quite impossible, Mr Wooster, quite impossible. You must resign yourself to the eight arms of your own species, you know. With a rapid flight reflex and adequate attention to establishment of an escape route, you, too, may someday find love.' 

'Quite, quite.' I fought the urge to hide myself; Sir Watkyn Sea-Bassett's whiskery expression was kind enough, but remorseless. 'Well-'

'Absolutely. Thank you for your kind visit, Mr Wooster. Perhaps we will meet again.' And on that note, he departed. 

I stood in the shrubbery wondering what to do. I had failed entirely in my mission to find, engage in conversation and distract Spodefish. In the end, I turned away and jetted dejectedly back to the outer wall of the estate, where Jeeves was waiting. He would, I thought hopefully, perhaps have a plan.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which plans are made

Jeeves was understandably perturbed by my rendition of events. No fewer than two of his arms undulated as I recounted the words of Sir Sea-Bassett. 

'What if poor Gussie's been beaten?' I said. 'And captured?' 

'Most disturbing, sir.'

'What can we do?'

Jeeves blew water thoughtfully. 'Perhaps -' 

'I knew you'd have an idea,' I said. 'It's all that fish-oil, by Neptune; Jeeves, you're quite the brainiest cephalopod I've ever met.' 

'It's kind of you to say, sir. But I shall be needing certain things: two stunned fish, two long cleft sticks, and – ultimately – a shark.' 

I stared at him. 'A shark? I say, you don't plan on tangling with one of those things, do you?' 

'I do not, sir,' he said austerely. 'I'm afraid that duty must lie with you.' 

'Me?' I went yellow, then as red as Mr Spodefish himself. 'Go near a shark?' 

'Yes, sir. I shall explain when we have the fish and the sticks ready, sir.' 

 

We arranged most of the necessary items in no time flat. Fortunately, Totleigh is somewhat close to a port; there is no shortage of half-stunned sea life, both living and recently deceased, for fishermen throw damaged specimens away at times, so it was the work of a moment to find a couple of woozy blighters of suitable size. The sticks were somewhat harder. In the end, I found one long stick, into the end of which Jeeves wedged a feebly struggling fish. No second was to be found. 

'What was it for?' I asked. 

'Mounting a shark is relatively straightforward,' said Jeeves, 'and it may be steered by means of a lure held above the head in two or three arms, leaving you ample grip to maintain your place on the creature's back. No, the harder thing about sharkmanship is dismounting oneself at the completion of the voyage, since it is always a trial to ensure that your irritable mount does not decide to take out its anger on its former rider…' 

I stared at the fish-on-a-stick. 'They're lures?' I said. 

'Yes, sir.' 

'You're quite mad,' I said. 'Loopy. I am under no circumstances going to attempt to ride a shark into Totleigh Towers to save the marriage of a pair of soppy ruddy cuttlefish.' 

'It would be the _preux_ thing to do, nonetheless,' said Jeeves.

I had said no. I was firmly resolved to leave the cuttlefish to sort themselves out for once, and I was adamant that my opinion would not change. So naturally I agreed to do it. Bertram Wooster is one of the sappiest octopoids ever to have walked this earth, and you can put that in your beak and crunch it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Wooster jumps the shark.

Riding sharks is _hard_. 

Mounting turned out to be achievable enough. You find your shark as it lurks underneath the reef and throw yourself onto its back. While the bally thing does its best to chuck you off, you grab the stick with the fish on it and you wave it in front of the darn' thing's cold dead eyes until the fish wiggles. At that point, or so the theory goes, the shark suddenly remembers what no shark ever forgets for long. To wit. the intense desirability of a free lunch. 

I've never had such a thrilling ride. The shark reef was perhaps ten minutes ' determined scuttle from Totleigh, but we made it in three, the shark singlemindedly snapping at the fish that somehow stayed just ahead of it while I clung on for dear life with every sucker and sinew. 

The alarm went up as we approached; the shrubbery filled with action as domestic cuttlefish streamed to right and left, screaming 'Shark, shark'. Chromatophores flared in warning. As my shark steed noticed the commotion beneath him, he slowed, showing less interest in the twitching fish that still lay ahead. 

I would have yelled a warning, for I was desperately afraid that the shark I rode would take out its anger and hunger on the cuttlefish below, but then we were across to the coral gardens, and I saw them: Cuttleick Spodefish and Madeleine Sea-Bassett, facing one another across a twitching lump in the sand - it must, I thought, be the dazed body of Fink-Cuttle. Great Scott. They were outside! I waved the fish desperately, hoping to distract my shark, but as I did so, Spodefish did the unthinkable: he grasped Madeleine with his tentacles, and, throwing her up and into the air, turned to flee into the rockeries. 

The fiend! I redoubled my efforts to distract my shark, succeeding in drawing its attention momentarily upwards by dint of jabbing it right in the nose with my bit of stick; when it angled itself back down towards the seafloor, I saw that neither Gussie nor Madeleine were anywhere to be seen. 

Sick at heart with the fear that my ride had somehow eaten them while I was distracted, I turned the shark away, setting course towards the destination that Jeeves had proposed: an abandoned fishing-net thrown from a ship, fouling the rocks on the sea-floor. It fanned gently outwards and upwards where it caught onto the tidal defences. I followed Jeeves' instructions precisely, heaving my fish-on-a-stick ahead of me as we entered the funnel and throwing myself upwards and backwards at the same moment, clinging to the concrete of the barrier and scuttling at my highest speed towards the shelter offered by the crannies above. 

My shark thrashed as it bit into the trapped fish, writhing with fury, dead eyes electric and cold. It turned back towards me, and I knew this was it, that I had at last lost my last bet and that this prehistoric horror would rip my tender body to pieces with its jaws – and then Jeeves threw the second fish into the funnel, and, while the shark nipped at it, he pulled the net free from the tidal barrier. The orange strands drifted downwards, gently, gently, a delicate and inexorable trap. 

Not waiting to see whether the shark found a way to free itself, Jeeves pulled me away. We jetted back towards Totleigh Towers, leaving the toothy steed behind us. 

\--

Hearing voices in the coral garden, we hid behind a rock, one flat eye each on the events unfolding below. 

There was still nobody to be seen: but we heard Gussie say, in a strangely quavering voice, 'Dear Madeleine, are you all right?' 

'Oh, Gussie! My dear, darling dream cephalopod! You saved me!' and something moved: a blurred vision in frills, Madeleine revealed herself, and threw herself to one side. 'Kiss me, Gussie!' 

She landed flat on her head in the sand. I repressed a laugh. 

Gussie bleated, 'I'm over here, dear one.' At last – miracle of miracles, for the first time since I had known Gussie, ever since his larval days – Gussie's outline solidified, camouflage dissolving into solid colour. 

'Oh, Gussie!' she said again, throwing herself at him, grabbing at his tentacles and pulling them around her. 'You are quite the kindest creature I've ever met, my darling; saving me, after that nasty Spodefish tried to throw me at a shark!' 

They embraced, tenderly and tentacularly. 

Then Madeleine's voice rang out again, 'Now that you've taught me to camouflage, let's stay that way forever, my dear.' 

Gussie's voice, quiet and bitter. 'You just don't want your family to see the weakling you've chosen for your partner. They'd laugh, wouldn't they?' 

'Oh, no,' said Madeleine. 'You are sweet to worry, my darling, but in truth I want only you, and you want only me, and that's all that matters; so let's hide, just you and I and an endless rolling ocean… it will be the most romantic honeymoon.' 

Tentacle to face, they faded out of sight, and soon nothing was to be heard or seen but sweet giggles and sighs that drifted outward with the current. Nauseated by their saccharine cuteness, I goggled an eye at Jeeves. We retreated carefully, able at last to leave the loving couple to their brood. 

\--

Back in my rockpool that night, I went back to my sea-shanties for a while, trying with no great success to persuade Jeeves to join in. As I ran down into drowsiness, feeling sleep pull at my arms, I said, 'I don't know why chaps and things do it, you know.' 

'Sir?' said Jeeves. 

'Oh, you know. Love. All the fighting and the nipping and the post-nookie cannibalism. It just seems like rather an over-complicated way of going about what ought to be a rather straightforward job, when you think about it.' 

'I could not say, sir.' 

'Well, you know what I mean,' I said. I waved my arms around a bit to emphasize my point. 'I mean to say, It's a funny old world.'

'Yes, sir,' said Jeeves respectfully. 'Shrimp?' 

'Thank you,' I said. 'That's the thing about you, old octopoid, you're a chap's best friend; you're just always there, and you always have an answer. You're a real darling dream cephalopod, and I must say, if you don't mind me saying so, I really don't mind if I do, I don't mind at all…' 

'Thank you, sir.' 

'No,' I said. 'Thank _you_.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A visual aid demonstrating an octopus jumping a shark: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JFMD6Dne2Bo
> 
> This entire story exists solely because my dear husband used the phrase 'Augustus Fink-Cuttle'. I apologise for the inconvenience.


End file.
